


and in that world we are kings

by EzzyDean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is nothing but pure OiKage fluff<br/>because this ship deserves some</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“If you would just let me lead for once, Tobio, we wouldn’t have so many issues.”  Tooru’s glare is interrupted by his sudden giggle when Tobio unfolds himself from the floor where they had been curled together in a patch of warm afternoon light, slightly tipsy as they listened to old music and reminisced.

Tobio reaches down and pulls Tooru to his feet, hands sliding to link behind Tooru’s neck once he steadies himself.

The music is slow and Tooru can’t help but laugh a little at the picture they must make, him barefoot and Tobio in striped neon socks, both in worn sweatpants and baggy t-shirts, cheeks flushed as they sway in the light streaming into their living room.  Tobio scrunches his nose and plants a wet kiss against Tooru’s cheek, just to hear him laugh again as he leads them into an almost clumsy turn and turns his head to brush their lips together.

“I think we can have just as many issues with you leading,” Tobio mutters against Tooru’s lips as they sway again and nearly trip over the blanket they had been wrapped in earlier, sending them both giggling and stumbling across the living room.

Tooru’s fingers are warm on Tobio’s waist, safe and secure and _home_ in a way that he wasn’t ever sure he would be able to associate with Oikawa Tooru, and Tooru’s lips are soft against his when they meet, warm when they miss and brush his cheek instead, breathy giggling laughter filling the room between the beats of the song they’re not really even dancing to.

The song ends, changes into some upbeat pop song from their youth, but they stay a breath apart; swaying in the sun, eyes fluttering shut as they simply exist together.

Here, now, in this moment there’s nowhere they’d rather be than wrapped up in each other.

–

The movie flickers into a commercial - the kind of infomercial that only comes on when it’s obscenely early or disgustingly late - and Tobio wriggles his toes a little further under the pile of blankets at the end of the couch.  Tooru is tucked against his side, eyes shut through the bright blast of commercials but still wide awake.

His insomnia hasn’t exactly improved with his age and while Tobio doesn’t always stay up with him when it hits he knows that it makes Tooru feel less detached from the world, less of a distanced mistake in the grand scheme of things, if someone is there with him.  Especially if it’s Tobio or Iwaizumi and since Iwaizumi is about four hours away with his own family Tobio is content to curl up on the couch and watch mind numbing, low budget, decade old movies with Tooru.

Staring at the television on nights like this is at least better than staring at the dark ceiling in the bedroom - or so he’s been told - and if being here with Tooru sighing contently as he snuggles closer and rubs at his eyes under his glasses helps Tooru then it’s worth it in Tobio’s mind.

–

Tobio hands Tooru a granola bar as he bumps Tooru out of the bathroom so he can shower and get ready.  They both have less than forty minutes to be out the door and he knows that if given the chance to dawdle they’ll both be an hour late to where they need to be.

By the time he’s out of the shower Tooru is back in the bathroom, pressing a toothpaste scented kiss to Tobio’s damp cheek as he checks the mirror again and pouts when Tobio wipes a wet hand across his face.

“So rude,” Tooru gripes even as he grins and scrubs a towel over Tobio’s hair, making it stand up every which way before skipping out of the bathroom before he can retaliate.  “There’s coffee on the counter for you.”

Tobio takes a moment to pull Tooru into a proper good morning kiss, humming happily when he feels Tooru’s smile against his lips, before returning to the bedroom to get dressed.

One of their phones goes off with their twenty minute warning.

“Pick something up for dinner on your way home?”  Tobio asks and Tooru nods as he smooths the wrinkles from Tobio’s shirt with a swift hand and grabs their keys and phones and wallets from the counter.  He slides Tobio’s wallet into his back pocket and squeezes playfully.

–

It’s Tobio’s smile that draws Tooru in and it’s his laugh that gets him every time.  His smiles come easier these days, now that they’re grown and all that, and his laughter wraps around Tooru and tugs at him until he can’t help but feel at ease.  Even when the reason for that laughter is a picture of Tooru when he was twenty and drunk with Makki and Mattsun and Iwa-chan, pulling faces at the camera.

Tobio digs through the box that Tooru’s sister had dropped off earlier that day and pulls another random picture out.

Tooru’s breath catches: it’s a picture from Tobio’s third year of high school, his final game against Seijoh, and his face is sweaty and focused and to be honest Tooru had kind of forgotten he had even taken that picture that day.  It had been an accident that he took it, nostalgia that made him keep it instead of deleting it, and pure chance that it was transferred onto his sister’s computer and now printed off in a box of memories she gave him.

Tobio traces the edges of his Karasuno uniform in the picture with a faraway look on his face.

They’ve come so far since then that sometimes Tooru forgets that he used to be so distant, used to be so cold to Tobio.  Used to hate his seemingly effortless genius.

A soft laugh draws him back from his thoughts and he blinks rapidly; Tobio’s already on the next photo, already forgiven Tooru for the years of misunderstandings between the two of them, already trudging onto the next memory and growing stronger.

“You were kind of a goofy looking kid,” Tobio announces as he digs out a picture of Tooru with missing teeth and a dirt smudged cheek.

“Just wait until your family drops a box of pictures off of you.  Then we’ll see who was goofy looking.”

Tobio leans forward for a kiss and Tooru obliges.

“It’ll still be you,” Tobio snickers as he pulls out another childhood photo, this one of Tooru and Iwa-chan covered in brightly colored bandages with floppy straw hats on their heads.

–

Tobio settles on the edge of the bed and watches Tooru bouncing around as he gets ready to go out.  He would have been ready a good half hour ago but he keeps stopping to ask Tobio’s opinion on stuff and to swoop in for a kiss every few minutes.  Not that Tobio minds much because one: Tooru looks good in everything he’s tried on so far tonight; two: he is never going to pass up a chance to get fluttering distracted kisses from Tooru; and three: he is also never going to pass up a chance to watch Tooru wander around half clothed.

Once an outfit is finally decided on he leans in the bathroom doorway and watches as Tooru styles his hair and washes his face again and checks his reflection in the mirror from a couple different angles.

Finally he lets Tooru drag him out of the house, insisting that they’re going to be late if only _someone_ hadn’t taken so long to get ready.

(He’s kind enough not to mention that he was ready forty-five minutes ago and Tooru stops and tugs him into a kiss in a shadowy apartment building doorway to say thank you.)

–

Tooru leans against the kitchen counter as Tobio sinks into him.  His face is tucked against Tooru’s neck and his breath is almost uncomfortably hot and damp against Tooru’s skin.  But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t say anything.  He simply runs one hand through Tobio’s hair and rubs the other softly against Tobio’s lower back.  Tobio’s hands curl into fists against Tooru’s sides, crumpling his shirt, but he doesn’t mind.

In high school the thought of being like this with anyone was a little frightening.  Now it’s reassuring to be someone’s anchor.  It makes him feel like he’s worth the space he occupies a bit more than he would be otherwise.  He never really understood what people meant when they said home could be a person until the day he buried his face into Tobio’s hair after a month apart and realized that as long as he had the scent of Tobio’s cheap shampoo filling his senses and the feeling of Tobio’s arms wrapping around him he could be content nearly anywhere.

“I love you,” Tobio murmurs against his neck as he finally relaxes, fingers loosening and curling against Tooru’s waist, and Tooru shivers at the sensations.

“Love you too, Tobio,” Tooru replies, voice steady and sure in the evening light of their kitchen.  “I love you too.”

 _Love_ , Tooru thinks, _sure is a funny thing sometimes…._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totally inspired by kagejamas [Kageyama Rare Pair Week edit](http://kagejamas.tumblr.com/post/145630460058/kageyama-rare-pair-week-day-four-omegaverse)

Oikawa is precision.  A force of nature.

He is lightning strikes on a calm day.

Stars and galaxies and whirlwinds of emotion compressed into the shape of a human.  A mere mortal, fragile and breakable, but one who refuses to let that slow him down.

Rough around the edges, torn at the seams, full to bursting with all the things inside him roaring to get out.

Patches sewn on the cracks and holes in him with loving precision, neat pinpricks of reminders that he is here, he is good, he is summer leaves after rain.

Oikawa is pride.  A swirling cacophony of emotions, a marching band at odds.

He’s a bit of a disaster but he owns it, claims it, turns dust into stars and the court into sky.  He sees not the crumbling stones around him but the glittering possibility of what they can be if he can _just reach them_.

 

Kageyama is time.  Not patience, never patience.

But steady nonetheless.

Seas and winds and deep trenches of thought swirled and coiled into a human.  Forever unfathomable but so simple at the same time.  Focused to infinity, tripping over pebbles, refusing to look down.

Tumbled and cracked and shattered, put back together with shaking hands and craft glue, reflections of stars just out of reach.

Patches slapped on haphazardly, cracks left to gather scabs, rough slices of reminders that he is welcomed, he is part of something more, he is fall frost chasing after summer’s warmth.

Kageyama is change.  A constant shifting twist of fate, a magic 8 ball forever showing maybe.

He’s a bit of a mess, mismatched pieces all wrapped up in a seemingly blank cloth, but he’s learning it, discovering how to grow.  He takes the stones he trips over and uses them to build towards the infinite possibilities glittering _just beyond his reach._

In time a force of nature that is frightening at first can be understood, known to a point that the fright is a soul deep thrill, lightning crackling in the air and sending shivers through your skin.

Stars sweep across skies, reflect in the seas, and guide weary travelers home when they refuse to turn their eyes to their feet, gazes drawn to that ever untouchable glittering expanse.

They’re a little bit ruined.  A little too rough, too crumbled, too cracked.  But they know it.  They don’t fix each other but they add a few more patches.  Put a few more layers between them and the rest of the world.  Together they see a future, see a glittering shining promise, and make it happen.

 

_Stretched fingers - wrapped in tape, nails filed, trembling with emotion - cautiously meet._

 

Oikawa and Kageyama are that moment the storm ends.  The last drops of rain still rushing to the ground.  They are the point between inhale and exhale.  The hush of a held breath just before the balance tips and your lungs burn.

Mismatched patches over bruised lives, overlapping edges and corners that contrast in the most vivid fashion without clashing.  Uneven, unraveled pieces that clash in the harshest ways imaginable.  Lives that twine together like rope, weave themselves into impossible patterns, and unfreeable knots.

They are stars, galaxies, infinite possibilities.  They are speckles of dust glittering in sunlight.

They are stained glass painting blank walls with warm afternoon sun and bright colors.

 

They’re love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nonny asked: maybe oikage + things you said through a closed door? :)

“No,” Oikawa said through his apartment door.  His words were coming out stuffy and rounded and Tobio frowned.

“What?”

“I said no.  I’m sick.  I look hideous.”

“Oikawa.”  Tobio sighed; he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle this.  Hell he was still pretty new at actually handling _anything_  to do with Oikawa with anything other than angry glaring or confused staring since they’d only been actually dating for a few months.  

Then he remembered his talk with Iwaizumi.  About being honest and straightforward with Oikawa because Oikawa liked to play around and tease people but when it came to himself he appreciated honesty.  The more brutal the honesty the better, though Tobio had a feeling that was more Iwaizumi’s input than Oikawa’s preference.

But honesty had worked so far.  So honesty it was.  

“Oikawa.”  Tobio took a deep breath.  “I like you and I like the way you look even when you wear that neon pink and lime green glow in the dark sweater that Iwaizumi bought you as a joke for your birthday.  So seeing you when you’re sick isn’t going to change anything.”

Offended silence - and how Tobio could sense that it was offended was still a mystery to him - beat at his ears for a few moments and then the door swung open to reveal Oikawa.  And his neon pink and lime green glow in the dark sweater.

“Are you implying there’s something wrong with my sweater?”  His sentence was punctuated with a long sniffle and every syllable sounded heavy and woolly.  His nose was red and his eyes were puffy and watery and his hair was sweaty.

He looked like hell and yet Tobio’s nerves felt calmer now that the door was open and he was pushing Oikawa back towards the couch where he had been cocooned in blankets all morning.

“You and your sweater look fine,” Tobio assured him even as Oikawa curled back up into his blankets and flopped against Tobio’s side.  “Perfectly fine.”


End file.
